It was after eight o'clock when Allan finally climbed the stair to his little room under the roof, and went to bed. Mary had darkened the windows, so that the light should not disturb him, and he dropped off to sleep almost at once. I know the physiologists tell us that sound sleep is impossible after a hearty meal, but, candidly, I don't believe it. Healthy animals, at least, have no difficulty in sleeping after eating; in fact, a nap almost always follows a meal. Watch your cat or dog after you have fed them. The cat will make a hasty toilet and curl up for a snooze; the dog will drop down behind the stove or in a sunny corner out-of-doors without even that formality. It is only when the stomach has been ruined by long years of overfeeding that one must use all the precautions which physical culturists and health-food advocates and cranks of that ilk advise--must eschew biscuits for bread two days old, and half-starve oneself in order to live at all. But the healthy boy may eat whatever he pleases, in moderation, and be none the worse for it. So all the day Allan slept, never once so much as turning over, hearing nothing of the comings and goings in the house. Indeed, Mary Welsh took care that there should be little noise to disturb him. Mamie, when she came home from school at noon, was promptly warned to keep quiet, and ate her dinner as silently as a mouse. Not until the sun was sinking low in the west and a glance at the clock assured her that he must be awakened, did she climb the stair which led to his little room and tap gently at his door. "Allan!" she called. "Allan!" "Yes?" he answered sleepily, after a moment. "You must be gittin' up, if you're goin' t' ketch your train," she said. "All right; I'll be down in a minute," and he sprang out of bed and into his clothes in a jiffy. Mary had his supper smoking hot on the table, and Mamie, who had just come home from school, sat down with him to keep him company. "I don't like your new position very well, Allan," she said, as she poured out his coffee for him. "Why not?" he asked, smiling down into the serious little freckled face. "Why, you're going to be away from home every evening," she explained. "Who's going to help me get my lessons, I'd like to know?" Allan laughed outright. "So that's it? Well, we'll have to make some arrangement about it. Maybe in the morning, as soon as I get in--" "You'll do no such thing," broke in Mrs. Welsh, sharply. "When you git home in th' mornin' you're goin' straight t' bed, jest as soon as you git your breakfast. Mamie kin git her own lessons. It'll do her good. You're fair spoilin' th' child." "I'll tell you," said Allan, "I'll get up half an hour earlier in the afternoon. There's no sense in my sleeping so long, anyway. It'll make me stupid. You hurry straight home from school, and we'll have plenty of time." Mamie clapped her hands. Then she sprang from her chair, flew around the table, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.